


American Reprise

by SargentCorn



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/M, First time writing something like this, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Sort of? - Freeform, character introspection, not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentCorn/pseuds/SargentCorn
Summary: John has a heart to heart conversation with David Geddes about his time in the van der Linde Gang.
Relationships: Referenced Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	American Reprise

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head since my second playthrough of the game. Please go easy on me as I don't normally write something like this where I spend a little more time on character emotions. Anyways, enjoy.

Three days.

He lasted three days before walking up to the Geddes’ house. His fist shakily hovered over the wooden door as a slow tendril of fear crept down his spine. Swallowing heavily, he wondered if this was the right thing to do, to swallow his pride and ask Mister Geddes for help.

In his heart, he knew the best way to get Abigail back was to change. Pretend his bounty, or two, didn’t exist hanging over his head like a slow-moving guillotine. And that he was Jim Milton, loving father and husband, and not John Marston, ex-gang member of the van der Linde Gang.

His hand shook harder. The thrumming of his heart drummed in his ears, tension haunted his body, and sweat tickled the back of his neck. He felt more nervous for this than his first gunfight.

Did he really want to invite a law-abiding man into the thoughts of an ex-outlaw? Or even hint that he ran in one of the most notorious gangs in America? 

Would Mister Geddes even let him walk away?

The door suddenly loomed over him, and he wanted to bolt. Return to his duties and pretend everything was okay. And that Abigail was right to run off with Jack then sitting back and watch him screw everything up again. His fist dropped an inch, and his breathing quickened.

Sections of his mind whisper for him to bolt, but his body doesn’t get a chance to respond as the door creaks open. The older of the two sons, Angus stands there blinking up at John, probably wondering why he’s standing there with his fist raised. A nervous cough leaves him.

“Angus,” he stammers before clearing his throat. “Is your… Is Mister Geddes home?” There’s no going back now.

“Yeah, he sure is.” Angus turns and shouts about John being at the front door before slipping by him. John watches the young man walk down towards the barn when the sound of footsteps approaches him from the still-open door. John has to exhale heavily to steel some of the nerves running under his skin and to his heart. Geddes appears a moment later.

“Jim Milton,” he says, overlooking John with an expression that feels as if he knows what John is thinking at that very moment. The need to bolt from the house grows stronger every second that ticks by, but he’s no coward. However, the racing of his heart and the churning of his stomach says otherwise.

“Mister Geddes,” John breathes, his hands trembling at his sides. “Could I… would you…” Words are failing him at this moment, and he wishes he paid more attention to Hosea’s teachings before that bullet had stolen his father away from him.

It must be apparent to Geddes how nervous John is by the way the man’s face softens a little. The older man touches his elbow and guides him down the porch; John lets him. “Easy now, son,” Geddes soothes, his voice steady like a rock, and his touch gentle. “What’s wrong, Milton?”

“I…” John takes his hat off for a second, tapping the rim with his fingertips. His throat feels as if it’s stuck in deep mud, and he has to take another calming breath. “I was hoping… argh.” He turns away from Geddes, cursing under his breath. But a squeeze at his elbow straightens him, and he returns his gaze to Geddes again. Closing his eyes and exhaling, he starts over.

“D-do you think a man could... can change himself into a better man?” he finally gets out, although it comes out quicker than he would have liked. “Or are we all doomed to stay the same way?”

Geddes’ expression morphs from gentle to thoughtful. His gaze turns to the mountains to the north as he ponders John’s question. And each second ticking by brings icy cold to the bottom of his stomach. During these few seconds, it occurs to him he finds Geddes’ opinion of him matter dearly. In a way, Geddes has become another father-like figure to John’s shattered soul and emotions.

Finally, after waiting the several agonizing seconds, Geddes returns his gaze to him. His face holds the gentle expression it had before. Something about it calms John a little, and he wants to drink in the feeling.

“I do believe a man can change, Milton, if he tries hard enough.” Tension eases from his shoulders visibly. John feels as if he can breathe a little easier. But with a tilt of his head, Geddes questions, “What brings this to the surface?”

New tension creeps into his shoulders and back, and John quickly glances around to see if anyone was listening. But everyone is focused on their various chores, and not John speaking to Geddes. The tension slithers away for now. However, he quickly asks, nearly begs even, “Can we move a little further down, please?”

Geddes grunts moving further down the porch with John hot on his heels. When they’re far enough, John feels ice cold and the need to check behind him again. He does. There’s no one there but them, but it doesn’t ease the icy cold gut feeling slamming against his stomach.

Fingers tug on his shirt, bringing him back to face Geddes. Concern colors his face, and John swallows loudly, something scratching at his throat as he does. “I… um…” he starts and stops, brings his eyes downward. The words pile up in his tongue as there’s an invisible dam blocking them. Could he tell Geddes this?

But when he looks up at Geddes, everything shatters in two, and the words pour out. “I’m asking this because my name is John Marston, not Jim Milton. And we were running from a lot of things when I first came here. I murdered a man up around Annesburg, but that ain’t the worst of it.” He inhaled sharply before restarting, watching how Geddes’ expression hadn’t changed. “I ran with one of the most notorious gangs in all of America. Dutch’s boys, or the van der Linde Gang, depending on who you asked.”

A frown appears on Geddes face, but he gestures for John to continue. And John’s not sure if he’s relieved or even more scared than he was before.

“Da-Dutch saved from the gallows when I was twelve. Local farmers caught me stealing food and decided instead of taking pity on an orphan, figured they’d string me up for it. He and another man, Arthur, my brother, shot the rope sparing me from the hanging. Then another man, P-Hosea, the other leader, picked me up from the ground, and they rode off with me with the locals shooting back after the shock wore off.” 

He regarded Geddes again and still saw no visible judgment, just a silent continue. “Well, they took me to their camp, fed me, clothed me, took care of me, and even taught me how to read and write. Did everything no one did for an orphan like me. So I stayed, felt like I had to after all that, you know?” Geddes nodded once. “So, I grew up with them, watched the gang get bigger, my… my family gets bigger. Then one day, this old man named Uncle, yes Uncle, joined us with this young woman, Abigail. Or Agatha as you know her. Turned out, he was her pimp.” Large eyebrows moved upward slightly, but still, no words came from his singular listener.

“Eventually, the two of us fell for each other despite… her history in general and with us. Guess it seemed natural, an outlaw, and a working girl.” He shook his head. “Well, sometime after that, she announced she was pregnant, didn’t know which one of us was the father, but said I was most likely the father. A year later, little Jack, or Lancelot, was born and I, heh, I ran, Mister Geddes. For a year before coming back.” Shame colored his cheeks, and he removed his hat from his head, played with the fabric under his fingertips.

“Time passed, and at the start of 1899, we found ourselves camped outside Blackwater. We were flush with money and happy, but still planning for a big robbery. One of our newest members we picked up six months before arriving at Blackwater got wind of the ferry being flush with cash headed towards the bank. Dutch started thinking about it despite Pa’s, er, Hosea’s objections because he and Arthur were on a real estate scam job. Probably would have worked out better than the ferry job because all of a sudden Pinkertons surrounded us, and we took hostages in response.” He paused to see Geddes studying him with an intensity in his eyes. John swallowed heavily, wishing the ground would swallow him, but the flood gates were open with no way of shutting them.

“A stalemate went on until Micah, the member behind getting wind of the ferry job, urged Dutch to kill the woman he was holding. And…and Dutch…. Just shot her. Without care. Something he had never done before.” Clearing his throat, he couldn’t help but tug at his collar. Sweat trickled down his back. “Well, a shoot-out started, and we were able to flee from the city, and flee into the Grizzles until we got lost in this snowstorm. I was asked to scout ahead and eventually became lost. The next morning Arthur, and another man, Javier, found me stranded in the cold of the snow with freshly-made scars.” His fingertips traced the old scars on his cheek. Geddes watched the movement before solemnly nodding. “They got me back to Colter that they had found the day before. I don’t remember much of that time because I was all banged up, but according to the journal Arthur kept, they had found a woman whose husband was killed by O’Driscolls and her house burned down, robbed from said gang that was staying in that old mining camp, and robbed a train that Leviticus Cornwall owned.”

He didn’t think Geddes’ eyebrows could have risen higher than they already were, but they did. “Leviticus Cornwall?” he questioned. “The oilman killed in Annesburg late 1899?”

“Yeah,” John confirmed with a wince. “The same man who was shot by Dutch.” His boss shook his head before motioning him to go on. “Right, after the robbery we settled by Horseshoe Overlook near Valentine. Stayed there, robbed folk, and another train, until Cornwall found us, and another shoot out occurred. Then we fled to Clemon’s Point near Rhodes. Tried to play the Grays and the Braithwraithes off each other. Didn’t end well. Sean, another gun in the gang, was shot and killed in Rhodes after he and three others were jumped by the Grays. Then when those three got back, Jack was taken by the Braithwrathes and sold to a man, Angelo Bronte, in Saint Denis. Of course, we only found that out after we burned the manor down.” Geddes gave him a look, and John nodded warily. “Yes, that was us too.”

Bowing his head for a second, he waited for Geddes to shout at him. To get off his ranch and never returned, that he was sending the law after John’s hide. Seconds passed before Geddes cleared his throat. “Go on, son. I want to hear the full story.”

“A-anyways, back in October of 1989, well, we were pretty much done for. About a month earlier, we tried robbing a trolley station and the bank of Saint Denis. Both ended badly, especially the bank with Hosea and Lenny being killed, and I was captured and sent to Sisika. Or until Sadie, the woman we found, and Arthur got me out and told me what had happened since I had been in there. How all the men who had survived had been stranded on Guarma, and had to escape by killing the leader there. I can’t remember his name.”

“Fussar,” Geddes supplied, and John noted the hint of exasperation in the man’s tone.

“Ye-yeah,” he stammered. “We had camp set up in this cave called Beaver Hollow. And here, the gang started to fracture. Dutch murdered Cornwall, got us interfering with the Army-Indian conflict, had us blow up a bridge, and attack the refinery in the Heartlands for more bonds. Got the chief’s son killed in that as well. And the entire time ignored the fact Arthur was dying of TB.” Geddes opened his mouth, and John quickly answered. “The entire time, Dutch had a man named Strauss loan sharking people, but Arthur did the money collecting. Outside of Valentine, he beat a poor, sick farmer to death, and that man gave Arthur the TB.”

“Ah. This Arthur… you speak fondly yet at the same time he seems like quite the brute.”

“Arthur… was… he was complicated. It’s hard to say what he really was in the end other than a man who cared for those he loved.”

“I suppose we are all, hm? Caring for those who we love.”

“Yeah. Well, after the conflict ended and the bridge blown up, the Army send a train through with supplies and lots of money. We robbed it, got the money, and during this, I was shot in the arm and left for dead by Dutch. Abigail was kidnapped by the Pinkertons, and Arthur and Sadie saved her under the assumption I was dead. Arthur rode back to Beaver Hollow after sending the two on their way. The rest of the people who hadn’t left at that point stood against each other at gunpoint. Me and Arthur, with Susan, and Dutch, Micah, Bill, and Javier. Turned out Micah was a rat, and that’s how the law kept catching up with us during this time.”

John shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Nervousness still tickled the back of his neck and down his spine. He couldn’t help it even though that Geddes hadn’t stopped him yet. “Sometime after, the Pinkertons found us, and we scattered, but Arthur and I were left behind to fight the Pinkertons, but we were able to escape through the tunnel in the cave itself. Rode through Pinkertons till our horses were shot from under us. We moved through a hill, and I tried urging Arthur to keep going I didn’t want to leave him behind, but he said he had reached his limit. Told me to be a god damn man and go be with my family. I didn’t want to because he was my brother, but he gave me his hat and his satchel and told me to go, and that he knew he was my brother. I… never saw him again, and read in the papers he was found dead. And after I found Abigail and Jack, we’ve been roaming around since ‘cause I… I just don’t know how to be a… normal person. All I know is John Marston the outlaw, not Jim Milton the do-gooder.”

Finishing his story, he stood waiting for Geddes’ judgment. Seconds felt like hours, and more sweat trickled down his back. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, a rhythm to a drum that didn’t exist. But a long, heavy sigh came from Geddes’ chest, and he looked at John as if he were a stray dog hesitant to take food from a kind hand. “Son,” Geddes said resting his hand on John’s shoulder. John flinched at the touch. “You’ve told me a story most people wouldn’t believe. After all, who’s opening about running in an outlaw gang, but I can tell you’re sincere about this. So, let me tell you something. I told you America is the land of second chances, and I still stand by that. It is a land of second chances, but what you did goes beyond that.” Geddes squeezed his shoulder. “So, what you should be doing is making up for the damage you caused even though you can never make up for the lives you took. And the families of the men whose lives you took will probably never forgive you, but if you’re serious about changing your ways then I say you stay here, learn to work under me and my people for a while longer before going off to pay your repartitions to society.”

“How… how do I do that, Mister Geddes?” John breathed, eye wide as shock ran through his system. He wasn’t expecting this acceptance from Geddes at all. It brought hope to him.

“You start by doing bounties. Or what’s left of them. Most of the people on those boards are there for good reason, but you already know that.” With another heavy swallow, he nodded. He knew that very well. “Then you focus on helping people here and there as you can. But I also have to ask, how does your wife want you to change?”

“She…” John turned around and gestured to the ranch, “she wants something like this for our boy. There’s land by Blackwater she was reading about.”

“I see. Then let me tell you something, son. Don’t buy the land by Blackwater. People’s memories are long, very long. Good chance of you being found out there, especially if you try and use your real name. What you should do is look for land in the Heartlands. There’s a ranch there, Carmody Dell, for sale. I know the person selling it. I’ll write them a letter about selling you the ranch in a few months after your work here is done, and do some bounties. You’ll be able to sell to Valentine without the fear of being caught so easily. After all, there’s a lot of ranches in the area, unlike near Blackwater.”

“You… you would do that…. For me?” John breathed, utterly shocked that Geddes would be so kind to him after all the damage he’s done. He couldn’t, didn’t believe the man. But Geddes just squeezed his shoulder again.

“Son, if it weren’t for you, my family, my workers, wouldn’t have a ranch to come back too. It’s the least I can do for the man who saved my business. And I believe people can change. I believe you can change by honoring your brother’s last wish for you. To be a man and take care of your family properly. But… but don’t forget the chance I’ve given you. Help people when you can. If a man comes along with a story like yours, then you should help him out if he wants to change as well. If a man and his family need help, you help them too. Alright?”

“Alright,” John squeaked out before clearing his throat and saying it again stronger. “Alright. I’ll do it.” Geddes smiled at him for the time since the conversation had started.

“Good man. Now, let’s get you back to work. I’ll have Dickens work you harder to get you prepared for this. Alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” As they walked back towards the ranch, John felt his heart hammer in his chest, followed by a wave of hope he hasn’t felt in a long while. Maybe things would look up in the future, and he would be able to live a good life and make Abigail and Jack happy with him. Give Jack the childhood he didn’t have.


End file.
